


Just a taste

by fallen_woman



Category: Rome
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_woman/pseuds/fallen_woman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I would invite myself to one oft-visited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a taste

For all his dedicated debauchery, Maecenas appears genuinely surprised when Octavian dismisses the slaves and touches him.

“I dare not misinterpret,” he says, raising his thick eyebrows. His hand is slick and still under Octavian’s. The room’s musk in the summer heat has a thickness, a taste deep in the throat.

As Octavian rises and strips off his toga, the rich, immediate leer on his friend’s face is comforting in its familiarity. “I would invite myself to one oft-visited. Is that sufficient poetry for you?”

“Like a bolt of sun from the ass of Erato,” Maecenas says, even as his tongue curls and his consent ripples across his lap.

Kissing has always seemed a frivolous pursuit to Octavian; he pins Maecenas to the couch, and regrets not bringing a whip or even rope. The poet, ever pliant, lazes out of his clothes in between gasps, shoving everything to the floor. “When did you fuck Agrippa?”

The vision of Octavia and Agrippa in dumb embrace crashes through his mind. “Why would you ask that?”

Maecenas uncorks the vial of oil he wears around his neck for just the occasion. “My obvious charms seem rather—obvious, for your tastes.” He laughs as he prepares himself with one hand, with his legs propped against Octavian’s shoulders. “Besides, you do so ever like things balanced.”

Octavian grips the dark-haired man’s hips; from this angle, he’ll be able to slap his companion right before he comes. “Do you plan to speak to me of myself throughout?”

“Why Caesar,” Maecenas says, bracing himself for the thrust, “I would have imagined therein lay the appeal.”


End file.
